


Chorus

by NeverComingHome



Category: Anthropomorfic, Anthropomorphism
Genre: F/F, PWP, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-25
Updated: 2013-11-25
Packaged: 2018-01-02 15:43:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1058591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeverComingHome/pseuds/NeverComingHome
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Music isn't easily distracted until she is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chorus

Music’s been hooked on drums for a week now and it’s driving Lyric crazy to be honest. She walks around the house with drumsticks, tapping them on every flat surface, talking a mile a minute and losing her train of thought mid conversation to repeat the same beat over and over until she’s memorized it instead of just writing it down. Only after she’s woken up in the middle of the night and played through the entire song does she steal a piece of paper from one of Lyric’s notebooks, humming and tapping as she jots down the notes like her girlfriend doesn’t wake up at sunrise every morning to jog.

When Lyric comes home to find Music distractedly fiddling with a short wooden stick inches from her new vase, it’s the last straw. She places a hand on Music’s wrist,

“Give it a rest.”

She jumps, not having realized Lyric was even there, but with artful finesse Lyric catches the vase before it can fall, carefully returning it back to the windowsill.

“Oops.”

“Give it a rest.”

“But drums are so-”

“So what? I haven’t seen you in days.”

“I work from home, hon.”

“Exactly.” Music rolls her eyes with a smile, letting herself be pulled closer to Lyric. “You need to relax. You work better when you’re not focused on one thing, mix it up a little.”

“You’re one to talk.”

Lyric pinches her, not hard, and it provokes a laugh from Music. Sure she’s not exactly known for changing her look every five minutes like her girlfriend, but Lyric prefers it that way; staying constant and true while things shift around her. Music puts red over purple over green over blue and roars at herself in the mirror, she mopes for weeks about nothing then discovers the African reed flute and tries to get Lyric to teach her Kenyan in a day. Music doesn’t understand the concept of some things “not translating” or why Lyric is completely disinterested in big band, but will give all her spare change to a cappella groups on the street. Lyric keeps Music on a path, reminds her that life is made up of things that will always be around as well as fleeting crazes.

When Music forgets, she winds up talking over Lyric and making love as if racing towards the finish line, getting off with little help from her girlfriend the times when Lyric doesn’t overhear her moaning in the shower like a one woman symphony. So for now she puts the drumsticks aside and kisses Lyric forehead, her tone too innocent to be truly innocent when she asks just how long it’s been since Lyric has “seen” her.

“You don’t know?”

“You’re so quiet sometimes. I mean is that your hand on my ass or a light summer breeze?” Lyric slides her other hand down and brings Music flush against her. “Or maybe a strong gust, did you leave the door open?”

“Yeah, don’t let it hit you on your way out.” She pulls her hands away, but Music keeps them close, her hips slowly beginning to move.

“Aw, you know I’m kidding.”

“Go play with your sticks.”

“You,” she says, her voice lowering and all pretenses of innocence gone, “love my sticks.”

Music never says anything if she can do it and make her point just as easily, but there’s an _‘and me, right?’_ on her lips when she kisses Lyric’s cheek. The question mark in the softness with which she plants another on Lyric’s mouth although truthfully Music likes overpowering Lyric and knowing her so well that when they have sex she can find her rhythm in seconds, make her beg for a quick release, then give it to her without further instruction.

But she also likes this: kissing Lyric while Lyric kisses her and moving towards arousal together. Like a dance Lyric steps back as Music steps forward, tugs Music’s pants down by the belt loops while Music scrunches the bottom of Lyric’s shirt into her hands. Fingertips touch skin, mouths part, and Lyric murmurs filthy sweet things against Music’s neck. She tells her she’s going to be on her back soon, that she smells like oranges and Lyric is going to eat her like one, makes Music laugh then shiver then moan.

Music lays her head on the pillow, legs bent and knees touching just so she can watch Lyric spread them and so she knows she’s paying attention to the way Music can’t keep still. Her pants are barely off and already she’s humming, her arousal following the same pattern while Lyric improvises, knowing anything she does will satisfy the other now that the mood’s been set. Her teeth are as sharp as her wit, but Music only feels them when Lyric bites down her underwear and swipes between Music’s legs with her tongue before disrobing her completely. She devours her while kneading the outside of her legs, dipping inside to taste Music and spread the wet on her inner thigh before kissing back to her opening. She tells Music exactly what she tastes like, compares her to things that don’t make sense then sucks until Music is too busy coming for it to bother her.

Like a song they fade out together, tangled and yawning while their skin shivers in time to the settling of the air around them.


End file.
